Duty
by Willowstead
Summary: The final chapter of this installment. From the Landsmeet to past the end of Origins, what becomes of the great romance between Alistair and Elinora Cousland. Thanks all who fav and follow, R&R!
1. 1 The Last Night In Denerim

Duty

A Dragon Age: Origins Fanfic

Duty Chapter 1

The Last Night in Denerim

"Get in here you two, and sit down." Eamon ordered.

Elinora Cousland's blue green eyes met with Alistair's soft brown. He, typically, shrugged, and had a seat on the wooden chair Eamon had motioned to. She followed, unable to share the dread that crept over her heart. They had been hoping for a quiet moment together after all the drama and violence of the Landsmeet, but they both understood that their duty to Ferelden was more important than stolen moments in secluded corners.

Riordan, the Grey Warden they had rescued from Arl Howe's estate, leaned on the edge of Eamon's massive desk. A haunted expression hung on his features that made Elinora's stomach clench.

"It has come to my attention," Eamon began, his voice grave and tired, "that you two have... formed an attachment. Were you an ordinary man and an ordinary woman there wouldn't be a problem. I would even call it an excellent match, the future king of Ferelden and the daughter of a respected Teryn, but Riordan has informed me of a complication." He paused and took a sad breath. "You are both Grey Wardens."

"So?" But even as she said it, she saw Alistair's face crumple and his shoulders slump. She looked between the men in room, all knowing something she didn't. She hated that. "What?"

"Grey Wardens can't have children." Alistair's voice was barely a whisper. "It's the taint."

"It is a little more complex than that," added Riordan, looking to the uncrowned king. "Alistair is young yet, he has not been exposed to the taint long, which gives him a chance of siring children. Carrying a child is a different matter," his sad gaze shifted to Elinora. "The offspring and the mother share the same blood for the months in the womb."

"Oh Maker…" Elinora's face fell into her hands. Heirs. A king needed heirs. It was a cold, stark reality of royal marriages. If she couldn't provide them, she was no good to him.

And thus Leliana lost the happy ending to her love ballad.

Elinora rose suddenly, startling the men who were all watching her. "I understand." She turned on her heel and left Eamon's study, head up, eyes still dry. She didn't know how much longer the brave face could last. She increased her pace at the turning of the corridor, and again at the next turning. By the time she reached her room, dodging friends and servants alike, she was running.

She shut the door and put its oak planks to her back. Eyes squeezed shut, she tried to get her knees to stop shaking, heart to slow down. She took ten deep, even breaths then pushed herself away from the door. The ground stayed under her feet, she did not collapse, it did not swallow her whole.

See, she thought to herself, the world didn't fall apart.

Which just made her angry.

Elinora Cousland had never been a girl of rages or sulks, even as a child, but this was a new dimension to an all too familiar pain. The small niche of happiness that was all hers, ripped away so suddenly, a happy ending hacked off before it could fully blossom. It was like losing her parents all over again, but different. The void in her heart felt the same, but navigating through it would be much, much different.

Her helmet crashed into the opposite wall. She didn't even know she had thrown it until the clatter startled her out of her rage.

Which was followed a few heartbeats later by a plaintive scratching at the door and a familiar whine.

It was times like these that a girl needed her trusty war hound.

She opened the door just enough to let Finn in and was surprised when the door opened further, forcefully, and Alistair pushed his way in behind Finn. He shut the door and leaned against it, just as she had been doing moments before.

For an eternal moment, he searched her face. "I'm so sorry." It was feeble, and they both knew it.

Elinora fought the urge to collapse, either to the floor or in his arms, and wail at the unfairness of it all. They had just found each other, just found out about the full joys of love and lovemaking. Life was not fair and she would not regress to a toddler because she didn't like the newest lesson in an old truth.

She took a deep breath and drew herself up, straight and tall. "We have a duty to fulfill. We can't let our own desires get in the way of what must be done to save Ferelden and end the Blight."

"And we won't. We'll slay the archdemon and then," he shrugged his familiar shrug, "we'll see…"

"We'll see? Your majesty must…"

"Oh don't start that now." Alistair paced a small circle, hands scrubbing through his short blonde hair. "It was cute last night, but now…"

"Now it is deathly serious."

He looked at her a long time, the hurt drawing his eyebrows in. "Yes." He looked away, absently starched Finn behind the ears. The hound growled at him. His mistress was not happy and this one was making her so. Alistair moved his hand away before Finn could bite it off.

The awkwardness was crushing Elinora; she couldn't stand it much longer. "If you'll excuse me, I need to make sure we are fully supplied before…"

No, he couldn't bear this cool, polite business from her, not now. He closed the distance between them in two strides and pulled her to his body. Their armor rang as the plates of the Armor of Diligence met the rivets of her Dragonscale leathers. His hands slipped into her hair, drawing her mouth to his. She retuned his kiss with the same desperation that raged in his heart. His lips lifted as his forehead touched hers. "Not. Letting. You. Go."

The words were so strong, so determined that in that moment she believed them. For right now, they were the truth and everything was better. His arms, mouth and heart were reality, and the rest was a bad dream.

"Listen," he started, "I have a plan, for once. I'm going to have dinner brought up, water for a bath too, if you like. And then we are going to put Finn on guard duty and stay in here until we feel like leaving. Come Darkspawn or high water, we're staying together."

The smile that broke out on her face was the most beautiful he had ever known. She nodded. He kissed her briefly and ducked out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, he was back with their packs in hand, followed five minutes later by servants with food, several buckets of water, and a bouquet of flowers. Alistair smiled as she breathed in the sweet aroma of the flowers. "I wanted to bring those myself, but got all practical and went for the packs. That's your influence there."

"The boy can be taught." She rewarded him with a long kiss as the servants departed. One last preparation to keep the rest of the world out, and then they would have the time together they had been longing for. She opened the door to set Finn on guard and found Zevran leaning casually against the wall outside their door. The sly grin he gave her said that he knew what they were about, fully approved, and was going to see that they were not disturbed.

Somewhere in her pack was a silver bar with his name on it.

With the door firmly shut on the rest of the world, they fell into each other's arms. One by one, pieces of armor fell to the floor, carelessly cast away. Hands explored every inch of flesh, trying to memorize each contour. Even as they clung to each other in an embrace they said would never end, their kisses belied it, each being a desperate attempt to stay together.

They made love five times that night, each time she sent a little prayer to Andraste that she would be quickened, but truly she knew that this was the end. Maybe they both knew, but they locked their grief outside with Finn. For that one perfect night they danced and kissed, scrubbed one another's back and talked only of happy things when they talked at all. Eventually, they fell into an exhausted blissful slumber, safely curled up in the euphoric embrace of love.


	2. 2 The Harsh Liight of Day

Duty Chapter 2

The Harsh Light of Day

Elinora lay snuggled tight in Alistair's arms, breathing in his warm scent. A little sweat, a little steel, a little soap and then the scent that was just him. She couldn't describe it, but she knew it and wanted to wake up to it everyday.

She could stay here for all eternity, but the room was starting to get lighter. The sun was coming up and she knew they wouldn't be allowed to hide in here forever. The fact that they got this much time was a miracle. They had a Blight to stop after all.

The thought of one problem lead to thoughts of others. In the Landsmeet, Loghain's blood still warm at their feet, it had all seemed so hopeful. Alistair had spoken well and rallied his nobles, as a king should. She was proud of him in that moment and confident of a future together. He would be king, and she would be his queen. Then Eamon and Riordan had to go and ruin the dream.

Everything her mother had ever said about marriage crept out of the back of her memory. All the good parts about love and respect and growing old together flitted in and away, while the bits about duty and finding an appropriate match clung like nettles. She still remembered the first lecture her mother had given her at fourteen.

"I see you making moon eyes at Ser Gilmore. I recommend you put them away. He is not an appropriate match for a Teryn's daughter. We shall find you're a suitable husband when the time is right."

Elinora had a feeling that a king would suit her mother, but station wasn't the issue. Heirs, in the end, were what mattered. Childless noblewomen were pitied at best, usually the subject of scorn and sometimes abandoned by their husbands. Elinora had never known a divorced woman, but the rumors she had heard were not pretty.

Alistair stirred, his arms tightening, chin lifting and nuzzling her forehead. "Must it be morning?" he muttered.

"Alistair," she started delicately. It wasn't the time and she knew it, but the question wouldn't stop digging at her. "Did you know? About the children, I mean."

His nuzzling stopped, arms recoiled just a little and he sighed. "Sort of?"

"What does that mean?"

"I vaguely remember it being mentioned in a training session once."

She didn't hide the disgust in her voice. "I suppose they didn't deem it an important topic. Men."

"I suppose not. There haven't been any female Wardens in ages."

"Since when?"

He shrugged, snuggling her close again. "Dunno. Does it matter?"

"Maybe. Just shows how much I don't know." She started to pull herself away from him, to get on with the business at hand, but it was not what he had in mind. His arms locked around her tight.

"Not allowed. Not yet." He rolled, deftly shifting her beneath him. His lips lazily ravished hers, taking his time to fully rouse both mind and body. Their morning lovemaking was as simple as it was glorious and Elinora prayed one more time to Andraste that she would become pregnant and prove them all wrong.


	3. 3 The Return to Redcliff

Duty Chapter 3

[Author's note: I'm trying to no bore you with the action of the game and move on to the drama bits. I'm a little concerned that I'm getting too glossy here, but on we merrily go. One of the joys of fanfic is altering the parts that didn't do what you thought they should. I think you know what I mean… I've used and abused the game's dialogue here, as fits my whims.]

The Return to Redcliff

Elinora wrenched her sword out of a Hurlock head and sank it into the calf of the ogre heading for Alistair. Damned is she was going to let some monster hurt her love.

No, not love. King.

The purple beast howled and turned on her. She dodged its meaty arm and drove her dagger between two ribs and upward. It howled as Alistair gave it a crushing bash with his shield. The earth shook as it fell and the Wardens finished the monster off.

She scanned the village for anymore darkspawn, but none came. They headed out of the village and up to the castle at a dead run. The courtyard offered a another skirmish, which was handled quickly.

Elinora was exhausted and bloody. At least most of that wasn't hers. Pity. New blood, untainted, would be nice. She shook the stupid thought out of her head and headed into the main hall. Eamon, Teagan and Riordan stood in conference around a map on the table.

"Thank the Maker you got here." Eamon turned to them. "The Horde is heading for Denerim and will be there in two days.

"What?" Alistair moved to the map. "Have they been sent warning?"

"Yes, but they need our army. We march at first light."

Elinora looked at the map, figurines positioned all over Ferelden, mostly between Redcliff and Denerim, representing troop strength and positions. "I thought they were coming here?"

Eamon grunted. "Apparently not."

Elinora heaved a small annoyed sigh. One little side trip to the Circle and look what happens.

"Also," Riordan started, "the archdemon has been sighted. The dragon is at the head of the Horde."

"We can't get in front of it?" Elinora asked.

"No, the army needs to punch through the Horde."

Alistair stared at the map, trying to will the armies to reposition themselves to their advantage, or maybe just disappear and leave them all in peace. Without thinking, Elinora put her hand over his.

Eamon cleared his throat. "You two need to get some rest."

Alistair and Elinora looked at each other, nodded, then turned to leave. Riordan stopped them. "I need a word with you before you retire for the evening. Come with me."

They followed him to his quarters for the night, and there he laid out the last detail of the battle to come. Even with the dragon slain, the spirit of the archdemon would jump to the nearest tainted vessel. If that was a Grey Warden, his soul would destroy the demon, and the Warden in the process.

"Traditionally, the eldest of us deals the killing blow. But if I should fall…" Riordan finished.

Elinora looked at Alistair. "I understand." His face held a stricken look. She stood, turned and left the room.

Two steps out the door he caught her arm and drew her to him. "For Andraste's sake, don't," she half-heartedly protested. He did anyway, kissing her like the woman she was under all that armor. If only the heat he kindled in her would immolate her heart, gone in one passionate moment, never to trouble her again. But instead it stubbornly smoldered on.

A clearing throat pulled them out of the fire. Morrigan stood in the doorway to another bedroom, beckoning them in. With and exchanged glance, Elinora and Alistair followed her, her hand in his.

Morrigan closed the door behind them and went to the fire. "I know how the archdemon dies and I know how to keep it from killing any of you."

"What?" Alistair asked just as Elinora asked "How?"

"I would have you two promise to hear me out before making any judgments, agreed?"

"Agreed," Elinora conceded.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Alistair sighed. "Agreed."

"Flemith gave me a ritual to be preformed in the dark of night on the eve of the battle. Alistair shall lie with me," she raised a hand to stop the protest that Elinora was about to make, "and from this union will be a child." Morrigan, again, raised a hand to stop Alistair's questions. "The spirit of the archdemon will pass on to it, meaning no Grey Wardens have to die. After the battle I will walk away and you will not come after me." She took a deep breath. "Now, one at a time."

Elinora was a little faster. "Why not Riordan?"

"Riordan has lived with the taint too long. Alistair is cleaner, thus guaranteed to conceive."

"How…" Elinora started.

Morrigan interrupted. "No, it is his turn."

Alistair took it. "What will happen to the child? Will it be evil?"

"No, it will have the soul of an Old God. This is what my mother had in mind when she sent me with you. But you shall never know this child, for you will not see me again."

Elinora watched the heartbreak on Alistair's face, all he had suffered being a royal bastard. He wouldn't wish that on another, nor chose to be the cause of it.

"Do not get sentimental," Morrigan continued. "This child will not be an abandoned by-blow of a careless night's passion. I assure you, it will be well cared for."

Alistair did not look convinced. He looked to Elinora for guidance, of which she had none. Her eyes fell to the floor stones. "This decision is between the two of you. Excuse me."

Once in her room, cruelly next door to Morrigan's, Elinora started to pull off her armor. Tomorrow. It would all end tomorrow. Tonight she would sleep, or at least try.

The door creaked open and she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing him away. It was him, she could smell his scent. His hands lighted on her shoulders, then ran the long length of her arms. He tugged off one of her gloves as his mouth found her neck, kisses soft and sweet. "I told you," his whisper hot against her ear, "I'm not letting you go."

Elinora succumbed to his touch. Again, armor fell away with the rest of the world An urgency drove their lovemaking until they collapsed into restless dreams.


	4. In the Dark of Night

Duty Chapter 4

In the Dark of Night

Alistair listened to her deep, even breathing, assuring himself that she was fast asleep. Once he was, he slipped out of bed and found his breeches.

Blessed Maker and Andraste, he prayed, let her stay asleep for this, please…

He was no rogue, but he could move quietly enough when needed. The door creaked as it opened, sounding louder than thunder to him, but Elinora didn't even stir. He didn't dare close it for fear of a worse squeak.

He ghosted down the corridor to Morrigan's door, knocked three times and entered.

She lay in bed, the artfully draped sheet the only thing covering her. "I had a feeling you'd reconsider." She twitched the sheet aside with a cruel smile. "Come to me, lover."

Alistair didn't move. "This isn't such a good idea…"

"Would it be easier if I were her?" Morrigan passed her hand over her face. Her dark features were replaced by Elinora's fairer ones, tawny eyes for blue-green.

Alistair closed his eyes and looked away in disgust. "No, and never do that again., or Maker help me…"

"No, no. It is just you and I." She shook her head and her features returned to Morrigan as she sat up, crawling over the bed towards him. "Come now, your soon-to-be majesty.

He still did not move. "This is so very wrong."

"I disagree." Morrigan sat up, and shifted to crawl to the foot of the bed. "This way we all win. You both survive to fight another day." Morrigan reached for her pack, leaning against bed. She drew out a very small vial. "Drink this," she ordered and threw it to Alistair.

He caught it on reflex, then looked at the thin brown liquid. "What is it?"

"About a quarter hour of passion with just a little oblivion. Liquid courage, if you will."

"You could have just gotten me drunk."

"This is more precise and no hangover. Drink up, the night is passing."

Alistair looked dubiously at the vial for another moment before breaking the seal and drinking it off. He threw the empty vial in the fire. "Let's get this over with."

Morrigan pulled him into bed and let the potion do its work.

A creak pulled Elinora out of a fitful sleep. Dreams of dragons and blood had plagued her rest, and now some stupid noise…

She opened her eyes just halfway, not wanting to be awake. And there she saw Alistair closing the door, then skulking back into bed next to her. Every motion, every look dimly seen by the dying fire was guilty. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep as he settled into bed. The scent he carried wasn't right, it wasn't him. No, he was there, but there was another scent on him. Something woodsy and dark.

Morrigan.


	5. At the Gates of Denerim

Author's Note: And here's the part where we try to summarize in an interesting fashion. I really have no desire to re-hash everything that happens in The Final Onslaught, so I'm focusing on the most important bits for this fic. And if you haven't noticed the spoilers yet, then you should pay closer attention.

Most of the events in this and the next Chapter are the creations of the awesome guys at Bioware. Any job openings?

Duty Chapter 5

At the Gates of Denerim

The roar reverberated down to her bones. She sensed it before she saw it, the dragon swooping from behind their lines and over the city proper. It breathed a blue fire, enveloping a large section of city.

Elinora swallowed, drew her blades, Starfang and the Rose's Thorn, and rushed with the front line of the gathered army of Ferelden toward the waiting Darkspawn. Alistair's little speech had steeled every man and woman here, including her, their Grey Warden mascot. It was time to fight and die for Ferelden, time to end this Blight.

He ran beside her, eyes focused straight ahead on his chosen target. Alistair had given her one last longing look, edged with guilt, before the charge. She'd kissed him for luck before rousing his army, which he returned with just a little hesitancy.

Now that was behind them, the only thing that mattered was the fray they ran to join.

Was it a minute? An hour? A day? She didn't know how long they hacked and slashed, parried and dodged at the gates. The Darkspawn eventually receded, regrouping or dead.

Riordan scanned the skies and looked to the city. "We need to get to a high point in the city. Fort Drakon should do."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "You want to draw its attention."

"Yes. I warn you, as soon as we have it, it will call its generals to aid it. There are two of them just east of here."

"Then we take them first," said Alistair. "Prevent them from doing more harm."

Elinora closed her eyes and concentrated. She could sense them. In fact she was fairly certain one was despoiling the Chantry in the Market District. "Its decided then. Let's head for the Market. Wynne?"

"Of course." The old mage smiled ruefully and struck her staff on the ground. A glyph surrounded Alistair, who found himself unable to move.

Amid Leliana and Oghren's exclamations, Elinora put hand to Alistair's frozen cheek. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow the future king to risk himself. I love you, always." She kissed his stilled lips once then turned to her companions. "Morrigan, Oghren and Zevran, you're with me. Sten, see that they don't break through." She knelt before her whining war hound, "and you, protect Alistair. I'll be back, boy."

She turned to the gates and headed into the city. Soldiers cheered as she jogging past them. She did her best to look the confident warrior and worthy of their shouts.


	6. The Fall of the Archdemon

Duty Chapter 6

The Fall of the Archdemon

How many now? How many grunts and emissaries and alphas had she hacked through? Their stinking blood dripped off her fingers, and seeped into the dragonscale. She would never get it clean.

But it didn't matter. Both generals were dead.

But not the Glenlock assassin behind a barrel.

"Look out!" A Mind Blast for Morrigan knocked Elinora back, just in time to avoid the strike that surely would have killed her. Zevran quickly dispatched the assassin, taking it as a professional affront. Morrigan pulled Elinora up and got a dark look for her trouble. "What? It was necessary…"

Elinora cut her off flatly. "Of course it was."

Morrigan looked at the other woman, and Oghren and Zevran suddenly got very busy looting the corpses. "I see. So you know."

"Yes, and I understand." She understood so very many things. She was tired of understanding. "But I don't have to be happy about it."

"No, you don't. But you should know, he called your name out several times."

Elinora's retort was lost to the roar of the dragon as it bared down on them. They ran, stopping only as it banked away, having unleashed its fiery breath on the bridge connecting the Alienage to the city proper. There would be no falling back to the gate now, they were cut off. The only way to go was forward.

The dragon was coming in for another pass as they reached the palace walls, but stayed high. Elinora watched as someone jumped from atop a tower onto the dragon's back, sword out and plunging into the beast.

Riordan.

Even as more Darkspawn fell upon their position, she watched the Warden and the archdemon in flight, praying that he would kill it and this would all be over.

No such luck.

The dragon bucked and swerved in the air, roaring as it flew. Something fell away from it. Elinora ran, even though she knew there was nothing she could do and no chance of saving him. Riordan plummeted to earth inside the courtyard. At least a hundred feet and five Hurlocks stood between her and his final resting place.

She screamed in rage and took her fury out on the monsters in front of her, and every monster until they reached the top of Fort Drakon.

The archdemon waited, but they did not, throwing every blade, arrow, spell and ballista bolt at it until it was good and bloody. Waves of spirit magic hit them, making her dizzy and drained. Elinora ran two stripes of the blue spirit balm under each eye and charged to roaring dragon. It was time for this to be done.

Starfang pierced under the dragon's jaw and she drug the blade down its scaly neck, unleashing a torrent of molten blood. The dragon reared up and away from the offending weapon, then crashed back down. She dodged out from underneath it, a searing pain tearing at her head, just missing being crushed by the beast. Ignoring the injury and the red seeping into her vision, he flung herself smoothly onto the dragon's neck. With the last ounce of her stamina, she thrust Starfang deep into the Archdemon's skull, right between the eyes.

It bellowed one last enraged roar and collapsed, shuttering, still fighting in its death throes.

A bright glow emanated from the wound, getting brighter and bigger as Elinora twisted her blade. A ring of light rushed outward from the dying dragon to the horizon and a deep boom rattled bone and building. The light, the sound was overwhelming, she felt filled up with it, near to being consumed. Elinora clung on to consciousness as she wrenched her sword backward into the dragon's skull one more time. Drowning in raw power, she gave into oblivion.


	7. Awakening

Duty Chapter 7

Awakening

She sat on a bed at one end of a long, narrow castle corridor. She could see no end to it and no doors; it simply faded into the dimness. Bed called to her, telling her to lie down and forget about what was down that long hallway. But there was something there, just out of sight, something she wanted, needed. But the bed was so inviting and she was already sitting on it…

A hand gripped her arm and pulled her off the bed harshly. She was dragged a few paces away from it, heading down the corridor. She turned, ready to deal with the assailant who would so rudely pull her from her rest.

Duncan stood before her, one hand still firmly on her upper arm.

Duncan? He was dead. She abruptly understood; this was the Fade.

"Am I dead?" she asked him.

"No child, you are not dead. You are dreaming and soon it will be time to wake up. But I wish a word with you before you return to the real world."

"Oh, what's that?"

"Duty." He lead her, his hand still gripped tight on her arm, down the corridor, away from the bed. She resisted, just enough so that he had to keep his grip tight. "When you became a Grey Warden, you gave up the right to put your own desires first. You are the line against the darkspawn and the Blight. Ferelden cannot remain naked to their attacks."

"But the Archdemon…"

"Is slain. But so are all but two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Alistair must be king, and you must rebuild our order."

"But…" Their progress down the hall sped up, but the bed still called to her.

"You needed each other to defeat the Blight, and now your destinies diverge."

"Must they?" The bed was fading from view behind them. She thought she could make out someone else on it, but she wasn't sure.

"Yes, my child. You've a long path to tread, but tread it you must. You are destined to command us, but first you must rebuild."

Tears stung her eyes and the corridor seemed to dim a bit. "I don't know where to start."

"Weisshaupht."

Suddenly a flash of light filled the corridor and she was blinded.

And then she was in a very large bed in a very fine room. Her head hurt abominably.

"My lady?" a soft female voice asked.

"Wha..?" was all Elinora could manage.

She caught a bit of movement as the servant ran for the door. "She's awake!" The maid returned to the bed and looked Elinora over. Everything ached and felt fuzzy, except for her head, which was threatening to be crushed under the weight of a great many bandages. Things were blurry, but that was due to the wrappings covering most of her left eye.

Wynne ran into the room before Elinora could start to panic about losing an eye. The old mage touched her face gently. "It is all right, my dear. The scratch is just very close to the eye. Another inch and it would have been another matter. Hold still, I want to get a look at it." Wynne started unwinding the bandages.

"How long?"

"Just two days."

"Two days?" Elinora flinched at the loudness of her own voice. "What have I missed?"

Wynne shrugged. "Not much. Cleaning up the city, mourning the dead, burning the corpses of the darkspawn."

"Is that what that stench is?" Wynne nodded. "What else?"

Wynne sighed. "Morrigan is gone."

"Ah." Elinora couldn't put more vagueness into that statement if she tried. Truth was, she was relived that the witch and her potential offspring were gone. One less complication, for now.

"Move it!" called out the greatest complication of them all. Alistair burst into the room at a dead run and skidded to a halt at her bedside. If Wynne hadn't been in the way, he would have pounced her. "Darling!" he dodged Wynne and gathered Elinora in his arms. His embrace was still all warmth and safety, at least until Wynne pushed him away so she could continue undoing the bandages. "Thank the Maker, I was getting worried you were going to sleep through the coronation."

"Coronation?"

"Oh no, don't tell me that knock on your head made you forget everything? This is all your doing anyway."

She smiled at his familiar humor. "No, I remember." She remembered everything, every painful little detail. "Just wasn't expecting it. When?"

Wynne broke in. "Day after tomorrow at noon."

Alistair beamed. "I've had ceremonial armor put together for it and Leliana handled the ball gown."

"Ball gown?" Elinora had hadn't even worn a dress in Maker knew how long.

Wynne's smile was just a trifle smug, but still warm. "Quite the fashion coup, I understand."

"Oh. Good."

Alistair frowned as Wynne slowly pulled off the padding that covered the wound itself. "You don't sound excited."

"Sorry, still a little out of it." Wynne examined the left side of her face and frowned in frustration. "What is it?" Elinora asked suspiciously.

"Damnit. I'd hoped I'd gotten to it in time."

Elinora's stomach dropped away from her. "What?"

Alistair and Wynne exchanged looks. "What?" Elinora demanded, then made a hasty exit from the bed. The ground shifted precariously from under her feet, but she stayed upright and made for the mirror on the vanity. She fell onto the bench and gazed upon her reflection.

From over her left eyebrow down to almost the corner of her mouth ran an alarmingly red gash. There were signs of healing; it did not bleed or ooze, but it looked angry.

"Nothing I do can seem to completely heal it," Wynne confessed. "There will be a scar."

Elinora sighed. "I can live with it."

"I think it makes you look even more heroic." Alistair said with a grin.

"Certainly a war wound. I think it might get me some respect around here." Elinora smiled roguishly. "And I can't beat the story of how I got it, either."

"Your highness, I…." Eamon strode into the room, a dozen sheets of velum in his hand. "Oh, you're awake. Excellent." The word rang just a little hollow, Elinora could hear it. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there is business that needs to be attended to."

Alistair rolled his eyes and kissed Elinora's right cheek. "I expect to see you at dinner. Everyone will be there." He turned and left with Eamon, deep in discussion of military preparedness before they were out the door.

Elinora looked over to Wynne, eyes puzzled at the serious young man who just walked out of the room. Wynne shrugged. "He's taken to this king business like the proverbial duck to the proverbial water. Ever since the battle he's taken charge quite admirably."

"How often did he visit while I was out?"

Wynne's lips twitched into a frown. "Twice the day after the battle, only once yesterday. Not at all today."

"Ah."

A grey eyebrow raised, and was quickly pushed back down. "Now, you need to get some more rest."

"I've been resting for two days!" Elinora whined like a child.

"Stand up." Wynne ordered. Elinora rose and the ground, again, lurched. "How's your head feeling?"

"Like its been used for target practice," the girl admitted sulkily.

"Right. Back into bed. I've got a salve for the wound and we'll leave it unwrapped for a bit. Behave and I might let you go down for dinner."

As she flopped back into bed, Elinora muttered, 'Yes, Mother."


	8. Guess Who Made it to Dinner

Duty - Chapter 8

Guess Who Made it to Dinner

"… the Darkspawn just kept pouring through the gates. Sten put himself between me and Wynne and just started swinging his axe. They fell like so much dead wood, which gave us enough time to recover and start picking off the ones that got by him." Leliana paused for breath.

"All two of them." Wynne added. "He was very efficient."

"And where was I in all this?" Alistair put a hand to his forehead. "Oh, right. Standing there like an idiot because a certain Warden and a certain mage decided that I couldn't get my hair mussed."

Elinora and Wynne exchanged guilty smiles. Elinora looked to Alistair, "I'm sorry, but it had to be done. I mean, what would people say if I let the future king of Ferelden wander about with mussed hair?"

Everyone but Sten, because he was Sten, laughed, and Elinora mussed Alistair's hair for good measure. He caught her hand from the top of his head and kissed it. Their eyes held for a moment before she slowly pulled her hand away and picked up a goblet.

Eamon sat on Alistair's other side and did not look pleased at the display of affection. He excused himself, whispering something in Alistair's ear as he departed. Alistair's expression clouded for a moment, but he retuned with a smile to the friends and food to be had.

And found his friends looking between him and Elinora with great confusion. Leliana looked downright crushed. "Is there something we should know?" she asked delicately

Elinora tried for casual, smoothing the fine fabric of the dress they had put her in for dinner. "No, I don't think so." She retuned to her plate and took a bite. "This boar is delicious."

"Do not try to change the subject." Zevran gave the two a look more piecing than his daggers. "We went through some effort to get you two past all that nonsense of propriety and nerves. I would hate for our efforts to come to naught."

Elinora scanned the small dining room, filled only with those she had shared so much adventure, pain and joy. They were all paying attention, even behind their own shields. Sten was glowering and Oghren was eyeing them behind a mug of ale. Wynne simply waited, her expression as neutral as she could make it. Leliana looked as if her own heart was breaking, and Zevran still had them pinned to the metaphorical wall.

With a heavy sigh, Elinora spoke the undeniable truth. "I cannot have children. The Darkspawn taint that we Grey Wardens take on to do what we do makes it impossible to carry a child."

"So?" grunted Oghren even as Leliana wailed. Zevran pounded the table with an oath and Wynne looked like someone had died. Oghren's furry brows knit as he worked it out. "Oh…"

"Nothing has been decided yet." Alistair motioned for everyone to calm down. "We made no choices before the battle." The glance Elinora gave him said otherwise, but it was there and gone in a moment.

"But the affairs of camp are not the same as the affairs of state." Elinora kept her voice even and eyes away from her friends.

Wynne's mouth twitched a small, rueful smile. "Spoken like a noblewoman's daughter."

"Mother was always very verbose on the expectations of the marriage of a Teryn's daughter."

Alistair turned to her and asked what he was terrified to ask. "So, why did you… let us…" His loss for words was achingly adorable.

"Because I didn't care about all that anymore. I thought I'd left it all behind in the rubble of Highever. Besides, a king would have been good enough, even for Eleanor Cousland." Elinora looked to her plate. "But I'm not good enough for a king, not if I'm barren. Excuse me." She rose suddenly and rushed out of the room before anyone could catch her.

No one moved or spoke as the slam of the door echoed in the room.

"Idiot," muttered Sten.


	9. What Must Be Done

Duty Chapter 9

What Must Be Done

She wandered the palace for hours, drifting down corridors that she had never seen before. Her heart felt trampled on, worn out by love and loss. So many things roiled around in her head, making her dizzy, or maybe that was the head wound.

She found herself near the kennels, once she had started to pay attention. The barks and howls lead her to them and the one friend she hadn't found yet.

Finn lounged in his cage, worrying what was once a meaty bone. At the sight of her he dropped it and trotted out, head butting his mistress's thigh in greeting. "Ferocious war hound indeed," she muttered, knelt, and buried her forehead, right side of course, into his strong shoulder.

She could have fallen apart right there, weeping like an infant and clinging to a stuffed animal, but the kennel master returned and asked the strange woman in his kennels her business. He recognized her as she stood.

"Sorry, my lady. Not used to quality down here."

Elinora waved off his apologies. "Has Finn behaved himself?"

"Set a shining example of an off-duty Marabri for these savages. I was wondering if my lady would be interested in setting him to stud?"

She could have sworn Finn's doggie grin grew. "You may have use of him while he's here, but I don't expect to staying long."

The kennel master had a moment of surprise, but hid it quickly. I didn't do to question the higher-ups. "As you say, my lady. If you care to take him out for bit, the dog run is through that door. " He pointed to a door and returned to his work.

Elinora and Finn trotted outside. The hound found a stick, which she obligingly threw, enjoying watching him romp in the moonlight. The run was a narrow strip of lawn, ending at a barred gate which lead out into a courtyard.

The plan started to come together, slowly and with more effort than usually necessary. The whir of thought exhausted her, and she had much to do before she could sleep. She took herself and Finn back inside, gave the hound a scratch behind the ears then headed back into the palace proper.

It was time to talk to Eamon. If she could stay upright.

As she got closer to Chancellor's study, she heard two very familiar male voices arguing. Habit stopped her from going in just yet. "…be reasonable, Alistair. Yes, you both survived, but she still cannot produce an heir, and without that, the entire line will be lost."

"I don't…"

"Who will be king? Who will be king after you're gone, after the Calling takes you to the Deep Roads? I know how your tale ends, my boy, but I won't let it be the end of Maric's line."

"But…"

"Did you know that Anora has supporters gathering just outside of Denerim? They spread rumors and exploit even the tiniest weakness, and foolishly choosing a barren wife would be all they need. Do you want us to remain divided? Maker's breath, boy, you have a duty to this country!"

"He's right you know." Elinora stepped smoothly into the doorframe. Eamon stared at her, Alistair gaped.

"You can't be serious?" He stepped to her and took her hands. She swooned a little at his touch, but it was the head wound, she was sure of it.

A small smile raised the right corner of her mouth. "Deathly serious," she said lowly.

"No! I refuse to believe…" He dropped her hands.

"Believe whatever you want, but Eamon is right." She gripped the back of a chair, her legs suddenly protesting the weight they carried. "I am not an appropriate match for you. I can't have children, and my first duty must be to the Grey Wardens."

"What?"

"After your coronation, I will be heading to Orlais, then to Weisshaupht to find more of our Order and to rebuild its presence in Ferelden with seasoned Wardens. Its what Duncan wanted."

His soft, brown eyes bore into her. "Did the archdemon knock all the sense out of your head?"

She shook her head sadly. "I think it knocked some into it."

Alistair huffed and paced around the room angrily. "Great. Not even king yet and you two are conspiring against me. Just who do you think I should marry, my lady Warden match-maker?"

Elinora inhaled slowly, wishing the room would stay still. "Anora."

Alistair's mouth opened and closed several times, nothing more than a small choking sound making its way out. Eamon stood considering. "It would unify the country, your highness. And I would bet good money on her preferring to marry you and remain queen, instead of execution or exile."

Alistair's head swung between them, not sure who had betrayed him worse.

Elinora couldn't stand it anymore. Her heart was ripping apart at the look of anguish on his sweet face. She'd pushed him away with both hands, all in the name of duty, and now he would not come back to her.

She bobbed an unsteady curtsy and backed out of the room. Once out of the door, she hiked up her skirts and broke into a run for her rooms. By the time she reached them, her head pounded fit to explode and the world was spinning out of control. She shut her door and slumped into her bed.

She was unconscious before her head hit the pillow, but she would never admit to fainting.


	10. Breaking

Duty Chapter 10

Breaking

It was very dark when she woke again, the only light coming from a sliver of moonlight and the dull glow of a nearly dead fire. Elinora was surprised to find herself tucked neatly into bed in a nightgown, instead of the fine dress she had worn to dinner. She tried to rise to get some water, and fell back, crushed by a tide of dizziness.

"You shouldn't do that."

She turned quickly to find the source of the voice. There he sat in the corner, uncharacteristically glaring at her.

"Alistair, I…"

"Don't." He heaved a sigh, or was it a growl? Either way, it was miserable. "I was going to fight for you, for us. They don't have the right to drive us apart. But you. You aren't willing to fight."

She closed her eyes and looked away. "My fight must be for the Grey Wardens."

He stood. "Maker damn the Wardens!"

"Would you listen to yourself?" There were no monsters to take the brunt of her anger, so Alistair would have to suffer. She was sick of having to repeat herself. "You selfish child!"

"What?"

"Is everything now about serving your whim? We both accepted lives that meant something bigger came first. We can't give them up just because we want to carry on like love-struck teenagers!"

"You don't love me." He turned away from her and stared into the fire.

"I do!"

"You can't."

"I love you so much, I am willing to sacrifice my own happiness to make your rule successful."

He spun to face her. "Damn my rule!"

If she could have managed to stand, she would have strode over to him and confronted him properly, nose to, well, shoulder. As it was, she had to settle for sitting up and yelling. "I nearly died to see Ferelden safe from the Blight, I will not destroy her now by being the dead end to the Theirin line. I love you too much to leave you open to the civil war that we just prevented!"

With a furious growl, he swung a hand and knocked over the water pitcher on the washstand. Water splashed the carpet and hissed onto the fire. She had never seen him this angry. "I won't let you go," he roared.

"You have to." Her voice was barely an exhausted whisper. That one little impassioned speech had overexerted her.

Alistair faced her, arms crossed defiantly. "I won't."

A pulse of dizziness weakening her resolve. She relinquished. "As your majesty says."

"What?"

"I can't keep this up tonight, its too much." Her head fell into her hands as she tried to contain it. At any moment it might fall off or explode or drift away.

His face softened as he stepped over to the bed. A warm hand caressed her cheek, lifting her face to his. "I'm such an idiot, I'm sorry. I'll let you get some rest, but expect to see you at coronation."

"Of course, your majesty."

He gave her a slightly confused look, kissed her cheek tenderly, and departed.

Moments passed. She listened carefully for movement in the corridor, but all was silent. "As if you could stop me," she whispered to herself, and then surrendered herself to sleep.


	11. Pomp and Circumstance

A/N: Yet more changes from cannon, but again, its for dramatic value. BTW: there will be a grand total of 15 chapters, and then I write a squeal.

Duty Chapter 11

Pomp and Circumstance

Sunlight glinted harshly off her breastplate, the Grey Warden griffin crest doing nothing to dissuade it from getting into her eyes. The thing was ridiculous. She had never worn one in battle, sticking to leather armor for ease of movement and better concealment. For today, style won over substance, in a great many ways.

Along with shining silverite breastplate, there were poltroons and gauntlets, made to be impressive, but not overwhelming (she never knew how Templars could stand not being able to see over their own shoulders). Her boots were also silverite, but she wore blue leggings and dragonscale skirting that was like her old armor, but tipped in silverite and artfully fanned out around her saddle. Leliana had commented that it showed off her legs nicely.

Someone had created a silver circlet that supported a pair of wings, like the old Warden commanders wore on their helmets. No helmet was going to cover the chestnut braids and loose tresses that billowed romantically in the wind, emphasizing her femininity. As a finishing touch, in case the breastplate wasn't enough, a silk square cloak with the Warden crest fluttered on the breeze behind her.

Elinora Cousland looked every inch the triumphant hero, but felt like a traitor.

The processional route went from the Great Chantry, where Alistair had held vigil the night before and received blessing that morning, to the Royal Palace in a long circuit through Denerim. The whole city had come out to see them march past. A unit of Denerim guards, a troupe of knights and a group of Templars lead the sedan chair that a dozen men-at-arms carried Soon-to-be King Alistair in. Leliana, Wynne and Oghren, the latter and former enjoying the attention immensely, followed him while Wynne bore it with slightly embarrassed grace. Zevran and Sten had refused to participate out in the open, though Elinora was sure she had seen them ghosting through the crowd, staying parallel with her and Alistair.

Elinora followed her friends, riding an unblemished white horse, decked with the Cousland family shield and Starfang. She was not used to riding, but the animal seemed placid enough, even with Finn walking beside it. Behind her marched units of all those who had fought besides her; troops from various noble holdings, Dalish hunters, Dwarven warriors and a group of Templar-escorted mages.

It took three hours to make the route. Three hours of cheering, waving and being blinded by her own armor. By the halfway point, Elinora was very grateful to be riding. Her head had started to throb again. By the time they reached the Royal Palace, she was wishing for a herd of hurlocks instead of this pomp and circumstance.

The coronation itself did not take long. Elinora stood on the lower dais a few paces from Alistair as important words were spoken, oaths sworn and promises made. Alistair looked just a little terrified as the Grand Cleric placed the ruby-studded, gold crown on his head, but as he rose from knelling and turned to face the crowd, he looked like a king. Elinora swooned just a little, but closed her eyes to steel herself before she could ruin her heroic image.

But Alistair did it for her. She had neatly stuffed away her emotions, when an arm shot around her waist and pulled her into a metal-plated wall. Alistair kissed her, full and long, before the Maker and everyone. His crown and her circlet lightly clinked together. A mixed murmur rose up through the crowd as he released her, grinned like an idiot in love, and ascended to the throne. The assembled cheered as he sat in the golden chair.

Alistair made a speech, but Elinora had no idea what the content was. She thought that it was over. Two nights ago had felt like the end, and he hadn't come to see her yesterday, which she spent mostly in bed. She thought he understood what she had to do, for him and for the Grey Wardens. And from the look Eamon was giving her across the dais, he thought that kiss was her fault.

A touch on her arm from Wynne brought Elinora back to the present. The Healer was examining her closely, and not liking what she saw. The crowd was dispersing. Food and small entertainments would go on all afternoon, and at sundown the ball would begin. It seemed ridiculous for a city half in ruins, but everyone loves a party, and the whole city was expected to be celebrating tonight.

Good, thought Elinora as Wynne escorted her back to her rooms. Easier to slip out.

Upon return to her room, the decorative armor was removed and Wynne and a servant tucked her into bed. Everyone else may be enjoying the delights of the palace, but she needed some rest if she planned on dancing all night. Head injury and all, or at least that's what she told everyone, and it was mostly the truth. She did need rest, and to make a few final preparations.


	12. Shiny as a New Silver

A/N: I've now started to lightly reference my own work. The title of this chapter appears in "The Lotus" and "One Night in Lothering" will be hinted at in a later chapter. Reading those isn't necessary pre se, but it wouldn't be a bad thing (and both are short)!

Duty Chapter 12

Shiny as a New Silver

Sunset came far too soon.

She was awakened by a gaggle of servants that bustled in to get her dressed. Elinora had thought the morning's preparations had been bad, but this was far worse. Apparently Wynne had blocked them at the door for at least an hour before she let them in, which gave them an hour less to get Elinora ready. Leliana, coming in with her dress and a servant, declared that it was best that Elinora be fashionably late anyway.

And then they set on her like a starving pack of tasteful wolves.

It was a whirlwind of fabric and brushes, jewels and pins. Elinora stopped fighting it after five minutes and simply followed the polite orders of the head dresser, an efficient woman with the best taste in Denerim. Leliana rode support, getting the same treatment as Elinora and assuring her that things were coming along beautifully. Wynne came in at some point and warned the beauticians not to get any cosmetics or hair treatments near the injury. Elinora enjoyed the dressers' squirming. She was fairly certain they were planning on slathering the scar with a concealer.

After and eternity of poking, pinning and pulling, she was declared dressed. Leliana drug Elinora in front of a massive three-way mirror for inspection.

Oh mother, she thought, how I wish you had lived to see this.

Dalphinious layers of white and grey silk built a skirt that moved like rushing water. Her bodice was peacock-blue satin, to bring out her eyes, and fit to accentuate every curve. It stopped just under her breasts, straps running from underneath to lift and shape them, then over her shoulders, to tie at the nape of her neck and fall in a stream of peacock satin. A white silk shirt, bordered in the same peacock as the bodice, ran off her shoulders and fell in a cascade around her arms. The bells of the cuffs could have hidden a nug.

"Not bad for short notice," Leliana commented softly.

Elinora made a small agreeable noise and looked to her hair. Usually straight and braided to the side of her face, the beauticians had managed to get it wavy and gracefully draped. They had echoed this mornings Grey Warden circlet with combs that were shaped like wings at the sides of her head, catching up the waves of her hair.

"At least they didn't put me in a crown this time."

"They tried," Wynne muttered.

"Am I ready? Elinora plucked at her skirts, watching them shift.

"As much as you'll ever be." Wynne smiled at her like a proud parent.

With a deep cleansing breath and nod, Elinora departed for the ball.


	13. A Stolen Moment

A/N: And in this chapter, you will find why the rating changed. Also, a slight reference to "The Lotus."

Duty Chapter 13

A Stolen Moment

Alistair was surrounded. Every second a new face swam into view, demanding his attention. They were all polite and charming, but damned if they didn't get in the way. He'd lost track long ago of the nobles who had presented themselves and their daughters to him, and then there were the ones that only looked for favor. He had thought he'd made it clear; that this was to be an evening of revelry, not business. Eamon had warned him that the two would rarely part.

"Cheese, your majesty?" He turned to the light, familiar voice to find Leliana with a small plate of bits of cheese behind him. She smiled, then motioned her head to the great doors. He snatched a piece of cheese and followed her look.

The Major Domo stuck his staff and announced, "Lady Elinora Cousland of Highever, Champion of Redcliff and Hero of Ferelden!"

Every eye in the Great Hall turned, and Alistair's knees buckled just a little. She was a vision in silver and blue, his vision. The slight blush that kissed her cheeks made it all the more prefect.

He pushed his way through the crowd and placed himself in front of her. Taking her hand, he bowed over it and kissed it.

"Stop that!" she hissed. "Kings don't bow."

"They do if they are so moved, and I am very moved." He raised his eyebrow in that cute lusty way that came right before they had ducked into a tent. "You look… beautiful just isn't enough of a word."

She smiled, the old warmth growing. "You clean up pretty well yourself, your majesty." He looked resplendent in a doublet and breeches of red and gold. She wasn't used to him out of armor, at least not in public. The same comfortable sweetness still clung to him, despite the royal trappings.

Which made tonight's plan all the harder.

"Now, one very important thing;" he instructed, "none of this 'majesty' nonsense between us. You are Elinora and I am Alistair. Got it?"

"Except when we're in public," she added quickly.

"Yes, except… no, wait. Nope. None at all."

"Yes, your majesty."

He groaned and she smiled. Some things, she hoped, would never change, no matter what happened.

Eamon, leading a very pretty young woman by the arm, interrupted their playful bickering. "Your majesty, may I present Patria of Middle Reach, daughter of Bann Somer?" He looked coldly to Elinora, "Warden."

She retuned his icy look as Patria made her curtsy and babbled giggling flattery at Alistair. He didn't notice the exchange between his Chancellor and lover, which was just as well. Elinora withdrew, unable to take the girl's chattering, and headed for the refreshments.

She'd just honed in on Zevran and Oghren, still apparently comparing the virtues of ale versus wine, when someone caught her arm. She turned to face Alistair. "Oh no you don't. Eamon can tramp out every pretty girl with a title in all of Ferelden, but I'm still not changing my mind."

"You are a stubborn fool," she sighed, "and I love you for it."

Music struck up, heady and joyful. Alistair's smile widened. "Come on. They've taught me to dance and I wasn't half bad at it."

"I haven't danced in ages," she said, just a little wistfully. Highever had put on a great many fetes during her childhood.

He led her to the floor. Up and down they trod the measure, Alistair managing to step on her toes only once. He laughed, "And this is why I wanted you for the first dance. I knew you could handle having your not-so-delicate toes abused by a bumbling idiot."

She returned his laugh, each moment making it harder. "I came prepared." She swished her skirts away just enough to reveal her dragonscale armored boots. "My dresser had an apoplexy, but I'd be damned it I let a ball do what a thousand Darkspawn could not. Besides, your majesty, this is our third dance."

"Is it really?" He thought a moment, gathering that the music had changed a few times. He hadn't noticed, being to busy enjoying the company of the woman he loved. He knew if he let her out of his sight for one moment she would vanish forever, and he had no intent of letting that happen.

A piece finished, and Elinora stopped them. She exploited a small wave of dizziness that rippled down her, swooning against Alistair.

"I've worn you out, I'm sorry." He led her away from the floor and other swirling couples.

"Its alright." She expected him to set her on one of the couches along the wall, but he was steering her to a side door. "I shouldn't have pushed myself so hard." Once through the door and into the corridor, Alistair looked around like a naughty child, halfway through his mischief making and not wanting to get caught. "What are you doing?" she asked with amused suspicion.

"Little something I learned from you. Stealing." They slipped a little down the corridor to another door.

"And what is the all-mighty King of Ferelden stealing?" She entered the door he opened for her and stepped into a tapestreied receiving room. It was a well appointed with a divan, a low table, a small desk and a few chairs.

"A moment." With the door firmly closed behind them, he crushed her to his strong body and kissed her. Her lips yielded, her body cried out for him, and that horrid logical part of her brain warned against this.

One last time, she reasoned.

She clung just a little tighter, and their intensity burned a little hotter. He started to tug at the ties of her bodice.

"No! I'll never get back into this thing if you undo it."

"So?" He smiled teasingly.

"So? Would you like to advertise this little tryst with everyone in that ballroom?"

"Um… yes?"

"And destroy my reputation in the process?"

He shrugged. "Everyone already knows…"

"What?" She looked scandalized.

He smiled rakishly. "That kiss at coronation."

"That does not a reputation destroy, but sulking out of a backroom in a disheveled dress will." A roguish grin spread over her face. "Besides, we've managed in a few inopportune places before."

He chucked softly. "What were we thinking? In a temple, surrounded by werewolves and giant spiders…"

"Exciting."

"Very exciting."

Swift as a rushing river, he swept her up and set her on the desk, his lips ravishing hers. She returned with equal passion and slipped a hand under his doublet. His found its way under her skirts, confounded a few times by the layers of silk. She pulled away at the straps and ties that held his breeches, even as he pushed away the small clothes that proper ladies wore under ball gowns.

Elinora wrapped herself around Alistair; his earnest kisses smothering her deep moan as he joined with her. Her armored boot dug into his back and she corralled him closer, wishing she could meld into him and never have to leave. He thrust deeper, trying to possess her, that she would be his without restriction.

The desk, sturdy though it was, banged against the wall. Alistair, ever the considerate lover, picked Elinora up and swung them to the divan. The current took them, rippling through their bodies in gasps and moans, tumbling over in a final spill of ecstasy. In the peaceful drifting that followed, he nuzzled her neck, like he had a thousand times before, and breathed, "Don't go."

She traced his strong jaw with a delicate finger and chose to dodge, "We have to go sometime."

"But not now. Maybe not ever."

"They are expecting you."

"They can wait just a bit longer."

"Yes, they can."

A few more stolen moments, safe in each other's arms, passed until a gong sounded, tolling the hour. "We should get back," he sighed. Elinora nodded. He rose regretfully and started to put himself back together.

She glanced at the door. "You go first. I'll follow a few minutes later. We'll look less conspicuous that way."

Alistair looked at her a long, knowing moment, then nodded. "Am I ready?"

Elinora looked him over, tucked a tie out of the way and nodded. "Yes you are, your majesty."

He bent and kissed her, soft and deep. When he stood and turned to the door, he did not look back.

She swallowed back tears as the door closed behind him.


	14. A Theif in the Night

A/N: Only one more chapter after this one! And then starts the next installment, "Duty's Journey." Reviews are welcomed and encouraged, as it will get me writing faster…

Duty Chapter 14

A Thief in the Night

Elinora counted five whole minutes before she slipped back up to her rooms. The ball was over for her, and it was time to get to work.

Once in her rooms, she pulled out the supplies that Zevran and Wynne had smuggled to her over the course of the last day and a half. Peasant clothes and a maid's tabard, a backpack, a bedroll and some medicines and potions. She would be traveling very light tonight.

She wrapped the Rose's Thorn, her enchanted dagger, in the bedroll, and then stuffed it into the laundry sack that had carried the clothes and the rest of the supplies. It would not do for a maid to be carrying a weapon, especially such a fine one. Starfang would be staying here, displayed with the archdemon's head.

From her personal possessions she took the Warden's Oath amulet, better to be identified by in Weisshaupt, and couple of spelled rings, protections against cold and magic. Armor she would just have to find later.

With a heavy sigh, she picked up the small item that weighed more than the entire contents of the sack. The rose Alistair had given her was still perfect, preserved with just a touch of lyrium and tucked into a narrow wooden box. Varathorn had carved it for her himself, using the rose for the dimensions. The latch was hidden and could only be opened if one knew the trick of it. She debated, then tossed it into her sack.

Now to get changed. Which was easier said than done.

She was using language that her mother would have a fit over, fighting with the bodice ties, when the door opened and shut again quickly.

"So, you're really doing it?" Leliana whispered.

Elinora bit her lip. "I have to."

"I know, and I think he does too. Let me help you." Leliana set to work undoing the ties that Elinora couldn't reach. The peasant clothes were easy to get into.

Leliana looked to Elinora's feet. "You're wearing your old boots?"

"I wore them with a ball gown, I can wear them with an apron. Wade made them to fit me perfectly. Hopefully no one will be looking at my feet."

The ball gown she laid out neatly on the bed, along with the silver winged combs. She considered stealing the other jewelry she's been lent for the evening, but decided against it; too easy to trace.

Oh Maker, money. She'd forgotten about money.

"Forgot something, did you?" Zevran stepped out from behind the colossal wardrobe with a pouch dangling from his elven fingers.

Elinora raised and eyebrow. "How did you know? And how long have you been back there?"

"Long enough to enjoy a show I have caught a few times before." He tossed her the pouch.

Elinora groaned as Leliana giggled. "How much?"

Zevran shrugged. "About fifty sovereigns in various coins, give or take. I was hoping for more, but nobles do not bring a lot of coin to balls."

"It'll do, nicely in fact." Elinora pulled a handful of coins out of the pouch Zevran had tossed her and tucked them into her belt pouch. The rest were wrapped up and stuffed into the laundry sack.

She took one last look around the room. "I think that's everything."

Zevran nodded. "You always seem to manage, even if it is not." He pulled her into a hug and softly kissed her cheek. "You know, if you had chosen me, there would not be all this drama."

Elinora smiled as she stepped out of his arms. "No, there would be an entirely different drama. Thank you, for everything."

"Farewell." Zevran, smooth as summer breeze, left through the window, which was probably how he had come.

Leliana hugged her as well. "I've decided to end that ballad at the kiss at coronation for the time being. Come back and give me a better ending, will you?"

"I promise to come back. I don't know about the ending."

"Like we planned, yes? I'll pull the guard at the end of the corridor away, so he won't see you leave. And I will tell the servants you are not to be disturbed until a decent hour tomorrow."

Elinora nodded sadly. "That's the story. Thank you."

Leliana brushed her cheek with a quick kiss then darted out into the hall.

One last thing.

From a vanity drawer she pulled out a note, one that she had spent half of last night and a king's ransom in vellum writing. It was done, sealed and now left on her pillow. She kissed her fingertips, then brushed them across his name.

The escape was easy. With so many still dancing away, there was next to no one in the corridors. Head down, laundry sack clutched to her belly and mussed hair covering her features, she moved quickly like a servant about her work. Not a soul gave her a second glance.

Once in the kennels, she found the kennel master snoring deeply at his table. As a thank you for taking such good care of Finn, she had sent him a good bottle of wine with just a little something extra before the ball had started. She whispered a short prayer to thank the Maker that he had decided to drink it.

Finn danced in his cage, excited to be let out. They exited into the dog run, then slipped through the gate and into a rear courtyard. She left the servant's tabard hanging on a clothesline, then mixed herself into the leaving guests and their servants.

No one noticed her. The great Hero of Ferelden, slipping away from the palace like a thief in the night.

Once she gained the city streets, she swung the sack over her shoulder and drifted away from the ball-goers. She looked to the entire world like a peasant leaving the coronation celebrations of the city to go back to her life. And there were plenty about. Everyone who could had descended upon Denerim to take part. There was much to celebrate; the Blight was over, a new King sat on the throne and civil war had been averted. If only she could stay and enjoy herself, but duty pulled her onward. Elinora headed for the docks.

Either her luck was very good, or the Maker's hand was pushing things along; a ship waited for the out-going tide to set sail for Cumberland on the shores of Nevarra. A week over the Waking Sea, then the Imperial Highway would take her through the Teviner Imperium. She could figure out the rest from there.

Passage paid for, the captain being glad for the coin, they set sail with the sun brightening in the east. By time it was fully up, Denerim lay out of sight.


	15. Four Little Words

A/N: This is the last chapter of this installment. A sequel is in progress, and reviews are very motivating! Hope you've enjoyed it thus far!

Duty Chapter 15

Four Little Words

When Alistair awoke the next morning, he felt like his head had been used for target practice.

He rolled over and tried to hide under the covers, denying that it was far past morning and he needed to get on with the business of running a nation. A divided nation, a nation recovering from war. So much work to do.

He opened his eyes slowly and blearily took in the massive bed that was empty but for himself. It was all so very different from the last decade or so of his life, and didn't really compare to his childhood at the Arl's. But truth to tell, it wasn't the grandness that bothered him, it was the emptiness.

She wasn't here. She had never been here. She may never be here.

With a groan he hauled himself out of bed and cursed Orghren under his breath. Ozzamarrian drinking rituals bedamned, he was not going to do that again. Water, both to drink and to wash, eased his suffering. He pulled on some clothes and left his chambers.

Two guards were posted at the door and a servant waited. They all tried to say something, but he shushed them, and turned down the corridor.

There was something he needed to know first, before anything else.

Elinora's chamber was bright, tidy and empty. On her bed, clearly unslept in, was her ball gown and all its trappings, neatly laid out and waiting. On the pillow was a folded and sealed piece of vellum. Over the seal it said:

_To Alistair, King of Ferelden._

With and steeling breath, he broke the seal.

_Your Majesty, King Alistair of Ferelden, my fellow Grey Warden, comrade in arms, my friend and my love._

_I'm sorry._

_This is the coward's way, but duty calls; you to your throne, me to rebuilding the Grey Wardens. Our paths have diverged, for the time being._

_When I come back, I expect you to have married and had at least three children. You owe all of us that much._

_No matter what, I love you and will always love you._

_Yours in service and in love, Grey Warden Elinora Cousland_

Alistair read and re-read the note a thousand times. He counted three splotches were the ink had run, he thought, from her tears. One dripped off his nose to add to the one that blurred the word 'always'.

As he tucked the note into his doublet, over his heart, it wasn't the 'I love you' which stuck in his mind. That they had said to each other often. It was four little words that gave him the hope he needed to face the day, and all the days to come.

_'When I come back…'_

And thus ends "Duty." This tale will be picked up in "Duty's Journey," coming along anytime now. Hope you enjoyed this first installment and will be ready for the next!


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